TGP 202 - Intermediate Team Building
by DragonMaster65
Summary: Michael recruits Trevor to help him with his scheme, hanging the opportunity over Trevor's head as a chance to move up out of the failure of his experience with Mindy St. Claire. [TGPMondays]


**For TGP Mondays. Prompt: Past Fanfics | Secondary Character Appreciation**

 **So the theme this week was for old fics that hadn't gotten promotion on** **The-Fic-Place Tumblr** **, but instead I wanted to write this little missing-scene deal that I'd intended to write back during Secondary Character Appreciation week. So! I did :]**

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In the dim light of the Main Office, Trevor leaned against Candice's desk. She was a few centuries younger than him and dressed up in some bombshell brunette girl's skin. He'd been watching her every time she got up to get a fresh cup of antimatter, gleeful to watch that ass bob its way through the aisle. Now, perched next to her pile of Nickleback covers, he cherished the view he had down her shirt every time she leaned over instead.

"So in this particular zone we were experimenting with only pulling every _other_ fingernail. I didn't think that it would really make a difference, but Greg stumbled onto a real gem by lettin' em grow back overnight. Then we'd mix it up again and pull a different set," Candice drawled. She was a junior-level architect, freshly out of the academy. It was almost adorable, the way that she thought that random chance was a novel technique.

Trevor lifted his shoulders, ready to use his carefully honed mansplaining skills - he'd taken the pilot study courses, thank you very much - to detail exactly what she should have done instead to perfect her pulling technique. That was, until the familiar trill of his desk phone rang out over the office. Default Nokia, full volume. A classic.

"Be right back, sugar tits," he crooned before sweeping off the desk. Across the bullpen he let the phone go for one more trill before plucking the receiver up. He recognized the name on the tiny caller ID.

"What's up, douche-face?" Trevor said. It was about as neutral as his greetings went. He didn't graduate with a focus in Troll to _not_ use it on a daily basis.

Michael, by comparison, was painfully polite for a demon. He tittered on the phone line, not even trying to retort. "Trevor, fantastic. I'm glad you're available. I have a special sort of request for you," he said.

Trevor slung himself into his chair, reclining to a nearly horizontal plane. "A request? You know I don't come cheap, Mikey," he chuckled.

Static crackled as Michael sighed. "What happened to the Trevor who used to respect me?" he muttered ruefully.

"C'mon man. It's been decades since then. What, you think just because you've got your first solo job that I haven't realized I'm still damn good at my job? Bah," Trevor scoffed. "I need some incentive." He wasn't being quite truthful. Sure, he was great at the jackass schtick, but so were half the graduates from the academy now. And they didn't have the horrible screw-up that had been Mindy St. Ugh. Whatever Michael offered would just be icing on top of the cake of the chance to branch out past that miserable misstep.

Tricking humans into torturing one another? That was novel. _That_ could get you out of the lemon-juice-and-paper-cut department, no problem. Hell, if it went well enough Trevor might be able to finagle his way into Michael's new department as one of the managers.

Michael took a moment before he brought his offer to Trevor. "I know you're dying to get out of paper cuts, so how about if you haven't gotten your own solo job I put you on my shortlist of architects for Version Two of the Good Place project? There'll be more than just four humans for that one, I'm certain," he said.

Trevor hummed, pretending to consider it. Michael had pretty much handed him everything he'd wanted on a silver platter, save for the official management role. "How long do you need me for?" he countered. "I don't want to send my productivity down the shitter for your thing if it all goes to here."

"Two days. And you don't even really need to get into the acting part, if that's a problem. I need you to be everything terrifying, psychologically, for this one woman. Think you can manage it?" Michael said.

"You didn't say there was a babe involved. I'll get my suit pressed. Just make sure you have that project manager position warmed and ready for me when this all wraps up," Trevor replied. He leaned forward to hang up but paused as Michael stole the final word.

"This is your last chance, Trevor. Don't think that I don't know that. I expect you to perform. Top tier, none of this phoning it in that got St. Claire her own Zone." Trevor bristled and slammed the phone down. He could pretend that he hadn't heard Michael's last dig, but somehow he knew the other demon was back in his office, a wide smirk on his smarmy face.

Dammit, that was supposed to be _his_ thing.


End file.
